"He torments me. He is Bildad. Terminate. To your bed."
She pressed a warm kiss upon Job"s brow; took on her soft cheek the salute of his thin lips. "You have everything, dear father?"
"p.r.o.ne on my couch I lack much. I am content. You are a good girl, Margaret."
"Oh, father!" She tripped from the room in a warmth of satisfaction.
The rough head of Bildad the Shuite came round the door; spoke "Good night."
"Approach," said Job. Bildad"s legs came over the mat. "You seek your room? But not your couch?"
"I"m going to bed, if that"s what you mean," George told him.
Mr. Marrapit groaned. "Spurn it. Shun sloth. In the midnight oil set the wick of knowledge. Burn it, trim it, tend it."
George withdrew to his room; set the midnight pipe in his mouth; leaning from his window sped his thoughts to Battersea.
V.
One member of the house remained to be sent to sleep. Mrs. Major put a soft knuckle to the door; came at the call; whispered "I thought I might disturb you."
"You never disturb me, Mrs. Major."
A little squeak sprung from the nutter in the masterly woman"s heart.
"You sigh, Mrs. Major?"
"Oh, Mr. Marrapit, I can"t bear to see you lying there. The"--she paused against an effort, then took the aspirate in a masterly rush-- "the house is not the same without you."
"Your sympathy is very consoling to me, Mrs. Major."
"Oh, Mr. Marrapit!" She plunged a shaft that should try him: "I wish I had the right to give you more."
"Your position in this house gives you free access to me, Mrs. Major.
Regard your place as one of my own circle. Do not let deference stifle intercourse."
The masterly woman hove a superb sigh. "If you knew how I feel your kindness, Mr. Marrapit. Truly, as I say to myself every night, fair is my lot and goodly is my--" Icy dismay took her. Was the missing word "hermitage" or "heritage"? With masterly decision she filled the blank with a telling choke; keyed her voice to a brilliant suggestion of brightness struggling with tears: "The sweetling cats are safely sleeping. I have come straight from them. Ah, how they miss you! How well they know you suffer!"
"They do?" A tremble of pleasure was in Mr. Marrapit"s voice.
"They does--do." Mrs. Major recited their day, gave their menu. "I must not tarry," she concluded; "you need rest. Good night, Mr.
Marrapit. Good night."
"Good night, Mrs. Major."
Mr. Marrapit put out his candle.
VI.
And now in every room, save one, Sleep drew her velvet fingers down rec.u.mbent forms; pressed eyelids with her languorous kiss; upon her warm breast pillowed willing heads; about her bedfellows drew her Circe arms.
Mrs. Major"s room was that single exception, and it is that masterly woman"s apartment we now shall penetrate.
Hurrying to semi-toilet; again a.s.suring herself that the key was turned; peering a last time for lurking ravishers beneath the bed, Mrs. Major then fumbled with keys before her box--threw up the lid.
Down through a pile of garments plunged her arm. Her searching fingers closed about her quest and a very beautiful smile softened her face--a smile of quiet confidence and of trust.
In greater degree than men, women have this power of taking strength from the mere contact of an inanimate object. A girl will smile all through her sleep because, hand beneath pillow, her fingers are about a photograph or letter; no need, as with Mrs. Major there was no need, even to see the thing that thus inspires. The pretty hand will delve to recesses of a drawer, and the thrill that brings the smile will run up from, it may be, a Bible, a diary, or a packet of letters touched.
Dependent since Eden, woman is more emotionally responsive to aught that gives aid than is man; for man is accustomed to battle for his prizes, not to receive them.
Mrs. Major drew up, that smile still upon her face, and the moon through uncurtained window gave light upon the little joy she fetched from the depths of her trunk.
"Old Tom Gin."
The neck of Old Tom"s bottle clinked against a gla.s.s; Old Tom gurgled generously; pa.s.sed away through the steady smile he had inspired.
Mrs. Major set a carafe of water upon a little table; partnered it with Old Tom; reclined beside the pair on a comfortable seat; closed her eyes.
At intervals, as the hand crept between eleven and twelve of the clock, she would open them; when she did so diluted Old Tom in the gla.s.s fell lower, full-bodied Old Tom in the bottle marched steadily behind.
The further Old Tom crept downwards from the neck of his captivity, with the greater circ.u.mspection did Mrs. Major open her eyes.
Considerable practice had told this masterly woman that Old Tom must be commanded with a steady will: else he took liberties. Eyes suddenly opened annoyed Old Tom, and he would set the furniture ambulating round the room in a manner at once indecorous in stable objects and calculated to bewilder the observer. Therefore, upon setting down her gla.s.s, this purposeful woman would squarely fix the bureau that stood opposite her, would for a moment keep her gaze upon it with a sternness that forbade movement, then gently would close her eyes.
When Old Tom must be again interviewed she would lift the merest corner of an eyelid; catch through it the merest fraction of the bureau; determine from the behaviour of this portion the stability of the whole.
Thus if the corner she sighted showed indecorous propensities--as, swelling and receding, fluttering in some ghostly breeze, or altogether disappearing from view,--she would drop her lid and wait till she might catch it more seemly. This effected, she would work from that fixed point, inch by inch, until the whole bureau was revealed--swaying a little, perhaps, but presently quiescent.
When, and not until, it was firmly anch.o.r.ed she would slowly start her eye in review around the other objects of her apartment. If the wash- stand had tendency to polka with the bed, or the wardrobe unnaturally to stretch up its head through the ceiling, Mrs. Major would march her gaze steadily back to the bureau, there to take fresh strength and start again. When all was orderly--then Old Tom.
Masterly in all things, this woman was most masterly in her cups.
VII.
Into Mr. Marrapit"s dreams there came a whistle.
He pushed at Sleep; she crooned to him and he snuggled against her.
Upon his brain there rapped a harsh _Wow_!
He wriggled from his bedfellow; she put an arm about him, drew him to her.